


The Master of Mankind's Return

by templarhalo



Category: Warhammer 40.000
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Grimdark, M/M, More like bittersweet, Multi, This is all Sisterofsilence's fault :D, female Space Marines and Custodes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-16
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-10-11 07:35:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17442662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/templarhalo/pseuds/templarhalo
Summary: In the Grim darkness of the far future, there is only war.    The Imperium of Man is crumbling from within and without.  Not even the return of Roboute Gulliman can change the current of fate.It is only a matter of time before the Imperium falls.  Before any chance of a peaceful and prosperous future for humanity is lost forever.Sooner rather than later, the Golden Throne will fail, and the last hope of His species,  The Emperor of Mankind will die with his dream.Fortunately for The Emperor, the first Captain-General of the Legio Custodes Constantin Valdor and his friend Knight Commander Jenetia Krole of the Sisters of Silence aren't about the let that happen.  They  embarked on  a quest to rescue the Eldar  Goddess of Life Isha.  If they can free her from Nurgle's hands, she may  be able to heal the Emperor.It's a good thing the two  of them bumped into Leman Russ and Rogal Dorn  right?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Techpriestess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Techpriestess/gifts), [Orcbait (EmpressofMankind)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmpressofMankind/gifts).



Constantin Valdor had seen many ugly things in this universe.  He had also seen many beautiful things. The Webway was a mixture of both.  The ground he strode across was yellow alien brick, the sky an inky blue with streaks of purple. 

 

Valdor was on a quest.  One of atonement. Of redemption.  If he was successful, there would be hope for humanity again.

 

If he failed, the species his master had sacrificed himself for  were all doomed.

 

The former Captain-General was not alone in his endeavor, at his left was the former Knight-Commander of the Sisters of Silence, the warrior maiden without a soul, Jenetia Krole.

 

Both warrior’s armor were rent and scarred.  Constantin's black mourning cloak was in tatters.

 

The top of Jenetia’ head had a few fresh scars  her left arm was bandaged and her 

cloak was gone. The fur pelt that adorned her armor was nothing but scraps.

 

“We’re getting closer. I can feel it.” Valdor said aloud.

 

Jenetia didn't reply with words,  but her left hand formed a gesture of what was called thoughtmark.

 

+Are you sure?  To be here so soon after only a month of traveling?+ 

 

“I feel it my bones Jenetia.  This part of the webway. It matches my dreams. The one our King sent to me.” 

 

+I believe you my friend, but as someone who did not receive visions from the Emperor what makes you so sure?+

  
  


“The sky. Whatever is keeping the warp form pouring in is failing. Soon it will surge like water through a  broken dam. And all the daemons we have faced were minions of the plague god. And they have been fighting with a desperation I have never seen before. Seven of his princes dead by your own blade.  Five of them by mine. If we are not close, than why does Nurgle send so many of his finest hellspawn to die at our hands old friend?”

 

+The gods of Chaos are not conventional foes Constantin.  Only the Emperor could see their plots. How do you know we are not walking into a trap?”+

 

“Jenetia why would our King send me visions of us in the Webway? Or visions of the xenos goddess Nurgle claimed as his prize of war?”

 

+What if it wasn't Him?+ Jenetia signed.

 

“It was Him.” Valdor said. The Custodes’ voice cracked a little bit.

 

“Jenetia It was His psychic signature.  I don't know how, but it was Him. I felt it in my bones.” Valdor said. 

  
  


+I believe you Constantin, but the judgment of someone who is grieving is not always sound.  Not to mention this plan of yours is rather simplistic . We break into Nurgle’s realm, kill a ridiculous amount of daemons, save the Eldar goddess Isha  and convince her to heal Him or drag her with us back to Terra and force her to heal him+

 

“Simple plans are sometimes the best.” Valdor said evenly.

 

+Sometimes I forget how much of a fracking idiot you are Constantin Valdor+   she signed.

 

“If I'm a fracking idiot why did you accompany me than?” Valdor asked.

 

+Because someone has to keep your golden ass alive.  And I want Him back too+ she signed. 

 

The two friends conversation was interrupted by the sound of 70 slimy footsteps.  More daemons.

 

+Plaguebearers+ Jentia signed.

 

The Lesser daemons charged the pair, Plagueswords raised. Valdor sent four to  their death with a swing of his spear. Jenetia split one’s head open like an eggshell with Veracity.  The two carved through the horde of daemons with the ease of two friends who had fought alongside each other for years.   The Apollonian Spear and Veracity rose and fell, rose and fell until all who stood against their wielders were dead.

 

Valdor paused to catch  his breath. Jenetia remained silent.

 

+That would have gone quicker if we hadn’t run out of ammunition a few days ago+

 

“I actually have one round left.” Valdor said.

 

Jenetia was about to reply when the ground began to  rumble. A sound similar to that of a stomach growling filled the air of the ancient dimension. 

 

The sky fell, and reality was shattered.

 

Hundreds of thousands of Nurgles Daemons poured into this section of the Webway.  Nurglings, Plague Bearers, Blight Drones,

 

+You going to use that one round?+ Jenetia signed as the two ran like frack.

 

“I was saving it for a tight spot.” Valdor said as the alien road crumbled like Horus’ masculinity.  

 

+Up ahead, it looks like a portal of some kind+

 

The portal was a grey  octagonal thing with shimmering yellow and pink light.  Eldar runes were carved into it. 

 

This better take us to Nurgle’s Mansion and not a Harlequin’s Bathhouse. Valdor thought.

 

Constantin scooped Jenetia, her crimson tresses briefly obscuring her vision.  Jenetia did not question the Custodian picking her up like Malcador’s cat or a damsel in distress.  She understood he did not want to loose her in case the portal separated them. 

 

Valdor ran faster than the time a horde of sugar high Ligo Aetos chased him and Ra around the Tranquil Courts.   Shifting his left shoulder forward, Valdor jumped into the xenos portal. 

 

The second  they emerged from the portal, Jenetia leapt out of Valdor’s arms. She tucked her lithe form into  a ball, her topknot swaying as she rolled forward, Veracity drawn and ready to carve up daemons like lamb chops. 

  
  


Valdor did not share the Sister of Silence’s grace, he stumbled forward and fell face first on the ground.   He coughed up greyish dirt and black tar like liquid. 

 

Valdor groaned, stared at the ground, than at the sky.  “We are we?” he asked. +The Formless Wastes+ Jenetia signed +Our King told me this is simultaneously the most valuable  and the most useless part of the Realm of Chaos. No god of Chaos has claimed this territory but many Greater Daemons and Daemon Princes have carved out their own little estates here+  

 

Valdor surveyed the area.  “I was hoping for a more direct route to our objective,but at least we’re out of the Webway.” 

 

+Progress is progress, now all we have to do is find a daemon of Nurgle, beat the snot of out and then my silence will force it to tell us the route to Nurgle’s Mansion.+ Jenetia signed.

 

Constantin smiled at her.   

 

He felt something he hadn’t felt since before the Heresy.

 

Hope

 

He sighed and breathed in the tainted air.

 

“We best get moving Jenetia.” Valdor said.

 

+You are smiling+  Jenetia signed.

 

“No i’m not.” Valdor replied.

 

+How long have we known each other Constanin?  You are smiling. I haven’t seen you smile since, by  the Throne, I can’t remember You’ve been as stoic as Dorn since the War in the Webway.  Arlette told me talking to you since than was like she was dealing with a Ligo Aetos and not the First of the Ten Thousand. +

 

Valdor was about the reply, when something large and as heavy as a Coronus Grav-Carrier slammed into him and sent him sprawling to  the ground. 

 

He quickly recovered, the Apollonian Spear ready to  mete out a swift end to whoever had attacked him. He stared at what had attacked him and couldn’t believe his eyes.

 

Two figures, one clad in armor that had once been shining gold, now in the black of a son who had believed he had failed his father.  The other clad in armor the color the sky during a storm were trading blows with the fury only brothers could.

 

“I can’t believe you abandoned your chapter your fracking braindead lout!” the figure in black  yelled. His hair had once been neatly close cropped but was not messily styled and trimmed, like it had been cut with a combat knife.  His eyes were blue. His hair and stubble the color of freshly fallen snow. He smashed the stump where his left hand had once been into  the target of his insults face.

 

“We thought you died you stubborn  bastard!” the figure in grey roared.   The demigod’s hair was blonde, his eyes that of a man who lusted for life and the death of the wicked in equal measure.  He blocked the blows to his canine-like face with his arms 

 

“I’ve been trapped here in the Warp, I never ran off  to find some made up way to restore our father!” the one clad in mourning black screamed.  

 

“Rogal? Leman?”  Constantin asked.

 

+This is surprising.+  Jenetia signed. She then made the gesture for “laughing my ass off.” in Thoughtmark.

 

The two primarchs stopped fighting.

 

“Constantin!” Russ said joyfully.  The Primarch of the Space Wolves embraced  the Custodes in a bear hug.

 

“And your looking as radiant as ever Lady Krole!” Russ bellowed 

 

+Is that a joke, Wolf-King?+ Jenetia signed.

  
  


+Tis the truth m’lady.+ Russ replied in Thoughtmark.

 

Leman turned to  the Primarch of the Imperial Fists.

 

“Aren't ya going to greet them Rogal?” Leman said.

 

Rogal sighed, his stony features scrunched up.

 

“Greetings Captain-General Valdor, Greetings Knight Commander Krole.” Rogal said.  

 

“So what are ya  doing here?” Leman asked.

 

Valdor decided to bite the bolt round and the tell the two sons of his King why he and his closest friend were in the Realm of Chaos.

 

“I received visions from the Emperor.  Visions of Jenetia and I in the Webway.  Visions of Nurgle’s mansion.

 

I intend to  rescue the Eldar goddess Isha from Nurgle’s clutches,and convince her or force her to  return to Terra with us, so that she may heal the Emperor and save humanity.” Valdor said.

 

Leman Russ broke out in laughter.

 

Rogal Dorn’s right eye twitched,his features darkened.

  
  


“Have you gone mad Constantin Valdor? If the Emperor needed to a filthy xenos He would have told us when we placed him on that damned throne!.”  Rogal shouted. 

 

“I can’t believe I’m saying this but calm yourself brother.   And besides you don’t need a xenos sorcerer. I set out to find the Tree of Life!” Leman said 

 

For the second time, Jenetia Krole made the sign for “Laughing my ass off.”

 

+The Tree of Life was destroyed during the final days of the Terran Unification Wars Leman Russ.  It was not a source of untainted Warp Energy, but an artifact of the Dark Age of Technology that consumed  the souls of psykers to sustain it user. The Emperor judged it to be dangerous and so that He would not be tempted to  use its evil power destroyed with the blade I now wield+

 

Leman Russ immediately began cursing  in Fenrisian. Constantin grasped all of it including apart that mentioned something about leaving an Astartes named Bjorn behind.

 

Rogal slowly shook his head.

 

+How did you end up here Rogal?+ Jenetia asked.

 

“I was separated from my chapter.   The traitors have returned. Sigismund- Dorn’s wavered for just the fraction of a second.

 

“Sigismund had been waiting outside the Eye with his chapter.  He was convinced that the traitors would return one day. He was right.   The traitor's returned. Horus’ 1st Captain Abaddon was leading them. They sent his body to Terra.   I only had three Companies of my chapter with me, the rest were scattered on other campaigns. When we arrived at Cadia   we were vastly outnumbered. Hundreds of ships against the Phalanx and Three Strike Cruisers We launched hit and run and attacks on their fleet.   Of Abaddon on the Vengeful Spirit, there was no sign. I led an assault on the one of the Traitors battleships, the Sword of Sacrilege. We stormed the bridge but we were overwhelmed.  I ordered my sons to retreat. My Huscarls were slain, just before we made it to the savior pods. I lost my hand to a World Eater with an Eviscerator. It ended up in one of the savior pods  My blade joined it when it was knocked out of my hands by a thunder hammer. Somehow when I was killing the remaining World Eaters with my remaining fist the pod was launched. The ship made a warp jump just as I had entered another savior pod It crashed here, where  I ran into Leman.”

 

“Quite a tale.” Valdor said.

 

“Yes.” Rogal said.  The seventh primarch’s mask of stone was back in place now.  Any traces of his anger now carefully veiled. 

“So which way is Nurgle’s Mansion?” Russ asked.

 

“Unknown. We’ll have to beat the answer out of one of the Plague God’s Daemons.” Valdor  said.

 

Sounds like fun,” Russ said with a grin.

  
  


“What do ya think Rogal?”  Leman said.

 

“If there is a way to revive our father, even it involves a filthy xenos  whe should take it. The Imperium cannot survive without him.”

 

“Than we are in  agreement.” Valdor said.

 

Valdor resumed his quest with a somewhat lighter heart.   The burden of his failure was still heavy on him. But he was close to finding the one thing that could save his King.  Not to mention his best friend and two of his King’s sons that he could actually tolerate were by his side. 

 

Things were looking up.

 

As the four resumed their quest unaware a Nurgling had been watching their entire conversation.  

 

The adorable daemon disappeared in  a poof! of green smoke.

 

The Nurgling reappeared in the hallways of a decrepit manor.   Scampering across rotting wood and leaving a slimy trail behind it , the daemon made its way to  its master’s chambers.

  
  


A short pudgy man  sat on a stool, stirring a cauldron.  His eyes were a sick green. His hair greasy and receding. 

 

“What is it?”  Nurgle asked.

 

The Nurgling screeched and bleated in a language only Nurgle and those who gave their souls to him could understand.

 

Nurgle laughed, his seven chins jiggling.  He scooped the Nurgling up in his arms and it nuzzled against his belly.

  
  


“So the Anathema wishes to  take away my beloved and walk the mortal plain again” Nurgle mused.  The plague god was not scared. Sure he had tried to prevent the Anathema’s pet and the abomination that followed him from entering the realm of Chaos and sent a horde of his daemon kin to kill them, but he knew his pretty ones would stand no chance.  

 

The plague god stirred his cauldron and contemplated his options.

 

He’d send Mortarion.   Yes he would summon Mortarion and have him deal with his two brothers and the Custodian and the pariah.

 

And if he failed, well it had been quite some time since he had gotten his hands dirty.

 


	2. Chapter 2   Those left behind  (Sometimes ittle girls don’t just grow up. Sometimes we grow teeth)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Introducing my Custodes OC Aella. You may remember her from Endryd Haar fic if you've read it.

Aella Hypatia Enyo  was quite the ray of sunshine when she  a Ligo Aetos. Created by the Emperor’s own hand atom by atom eight years  before Horus set the galaxy on fire . Aella was like all of the Ligo Aetos, frighteningly intelligent, very energetic and criminally adorable.

 

Aella, like all of the Custodes to be,  had spent her whole life in the Imperial Palace.  She had only left for a field trip of the Petitioner's City which had ended in fifty arrests, a Vindicare assassin running around naked, and Prefect Diocletian finding himself duct taped to the roof of a Land Raider.

 

On the brightside one of Lady Krole’s Raptor Guard was able to schedule a date with a rather attractive Culexus Assassin and the toymakers of the Petitioner's City were significantly richer.

 

“One day I'll be  a Tribune like you.” Aella said as Ra tucked her in bed.

 

“Is that so?” Ra said with a smile. Everyone like Ra. Not only was he a model Custodes, but he had the coolest hairstyle and tattoos ever. He never babied her or the other Ligo like some Custodes and he wasn’t a cunt like Diocletian was.  

 

“Yup. I’ll be as good as you.” Aella said.

 

“I expect you to be better.” Constantin Valdor said as he strode into the nursery.

 

“Captain-General.” Ra greeted

 

“Just checking in.” the first Custodes ever created said.

 

Valdor stared at Aella. Unlike Ra who was in his robes. Valdor was in full regalia. His spear in hand.

 

“Do you know why I expect you to  be better than Ra, Aella?”

 

“Because Tribune Ra does silly things and once went bungee jumping from  the Tower of Hegemon?” She asked.

 

Valdor let out a small glimpse of a smile. Valdor rarely smiled. She heard some Custodes joke it was because there was a stick up his ass, but Arlette said it was because Valdor worried too much and focused more on what could go wrong to what could go right. .

 

“Not just that little one. I expect you and your fellow Ligo  to be better than even me, because on your seventeenth birthday you will be responsible for the protection of the most important human being to ever walk among our species. You are responsible for someone who brings hope to trillions of human beings.”

 

“Why is everything a lesson with you sir?” Ra asked

 

“Because life is a lesson Ra.” Valdor replied

 

“What about Tribune Arlette?” Aella piped up

 

“No one is better than Tribune Arlette.” Ra said.

 

“Wiser words have never been spoken. Now come, there are other Ligo Aetos who need bedtime stories read to them and to be tucked in.”

 

“Captain-General Valdor?” Aella asked.

 

“Yes Aella?” he replied.

 

“Will you be there when I become a Custodes?”

 

“I promise i’ll be there little one.  Unless you don’t want me to be there when you take up your Guardian Spear?” He said with another one of his rare smiles.

* * *

  


When Aella was eight she became Equerry to  Arlette Augusta Amon Rakaposhi Gorro, Tribune of the Companions and Equerry of the Emperor of Mankind.

 

She was also the Empress of Mankind,  which was a very well kept secret, The Ligo were told that whenever they were outside the Palace, they must never never call her Empress, otherwise very bad people would come and try and hurt her, and Arlette would have to  waste her time dealing with them instead of more important things like keeping the Emperor from setting his hair on fire or teaching them how to sing and the thousand other things she had to do.

 

Aella’s duty’s included bringing paperwork and tea for Arlette, delivering paperwork to  the Captain General and the other Tribunes, retrieving records and files for Arlette and helping Arlette decide when the Emperor should take his nap.

  


Aella was with Arlette when Malcador the Sigillite brought the news of Horus’ betrayal, She was there when the Custodians first returned from the Imperial Webway, bloodied and carrying their dead.  When the Emperor fought Horus, Aella was in the trenches delivering ammunition and medicine and watching Custodians and Space Marines die.

  


The victory over the traitors was hollow.  The Emperor was dead, if anything, his fate made Aella wish he was dead instead of the half life he would endure for ten thousand years.

 

The Imperial Palace became a shadow of itself.   Custodes strode aimlessly their red cloaks traded for black shrouds.  There were whispers that some of the Ten-Thousand had taken their own lives for failing to save their king.   

  


When Aella Enyo donned the Auramite plate and took up her Guardian Spear, she did it surrounded by ghosts.

 

Some of those who promised to be there when she became a Custodes, the Blackshield Endryd Haar being one such example  had died honorable and valiant deaths.

 

Others like Ra Endymion had shrouded fates, fates only known to the Emperor and Diocletian Corvo, who  took the the information regarding the Tribune who always played with her and the other Ligo, the one who  read the most interesting bedtime stories and who made the best chocolate chip cookies and told the funniest jokes to the grave.

 

And some had disappeared into legend and whispers like Arlette Amon Rakaposhi Gorro,

 

And Constantin Valdor.

 

Him not being there hurt like a Bolt round to  the chest. It hurt because he had _promised_ her he would be there.  Instead he had disappeared without a goodbye with Jenetia Krole.   Wherever Valdor went, the Soulless Queen followed. The two were like peanut butter and jelly.

 

So Aella trained with the Guardian Spear she named Gatekeeper. She participated in the Blood Games. She patrolled the walls of the Palace and watched the Himalzia mountains.   She saw the Imperial Fists train and patrol the walls their legion had died on.

 

When she was forty she became a member of the Companions.  

 

Aella had wept when she entered the Sanctum Imperialis.

 

He looked like He was sleeping.   Apart from His visible injuries and the cables that sustained His life, He looked like the man who had created her atom by atom.  The man she and her kind would have given their lives for without hesitation. The man who had once let sit on His lap and listen to her talk about she didn’t cry when she skinned her knee during jetbike training.  The man who soothed her nightmares and once let her watch as He worked in his lab on some new wonder.

 

The Emperor was not the skeletal decaying figure that He was when she returned to the palace  many millenia later. He still looked like he would rise from the Golden Throne any second. He still looked who the man she once saw hugging and kissing Arlette in the hallways of the Tower of Hegemon.  

 

The man who once stopped during a meeting with the Sigillite to feed some birds, laughed like a hyena when some of the older Ligo Aetos skipped Arturia’s class to paint Venerable Sagittarius pink and used His psychic powers to pass fruit around the dinner table.

 

After five years she was promoted to Centurion.

 

Seven years later she became Tribune of the Companions.

 

For eighty years she held the role once held by Arlette Amon Augusta Rakaposhi Gorro, the most powerful woman in the universe..

 

For eighty years she stood unmoving before her Emperor's entombed body.

 

And then He spoke to her.  Not physically of course, but with psychic power.

 

_Aella  stood in a stone chamber. On one side He stood in the armor He wore during the Unification Wars. On His right was Egil Kanthor.  An honorary Uncle to her and the other Ligo Arlette told her once. On His left was Arik Taranis. “He wasn’t as nice as people said he was.” Arlette said when she inquired about the most famous Thunder Warrior_

 

_Sitting across her King was Arlette herself.  She wore a suit of crude power armor draped in furs and leather.  Her hair was laced with strands of gold and silver. Clustered around their queen,  were a pack of techno-barbarians and a man from Albia who had his hand on an arming sword.  The man bore a resemblance to Constantin Valdor_

 

_The scene changed.  A Space Marine in Terminator Armor the colors of the Imperial Fists Chapter lay on his back. The largest Ork Aella had ever seen loomed over him ._

 

“ _Daylight Wall Stands Forever.”  The last Son of Dorn said resolutely._

 

_The scene changed again._

 

_A  man in golden armor held a sword in his hand.  Millions of Imperial guardsmen and war machines surrounded him._

 

_“MACHARIUS! MACHARIUS! MACHARIUS!”  The Guardsmen chanted_

 

_“Cadia Stands!!!” a mortal Aella found rather handsome screamed.   No other mortal soldiers took up the cry._

 

_“Cadia is dead!”  Abaddon The Despoiler replied. The former First Captain of the Sons of Horus loomed over the mortal. The Despoiler was a man who had haunted Aella’s nightmares after the Siege.  A man who would have killed her if her Broodfather, Shield-Captain Asclepias Phoebus Reticulus had not taken him and the entire Sons of Horus 1st Company on with a Sentinel Blade in one hand and Castellan Axe in another._

 

_The Warmaster raised the Talon of Horus._

 

_The scene shifted again, the mystery of of Ursarkar E. Creed’s fate unsolved for the Companion until she saw him in the war council with Roboute Guilliman._

 

_Aella heart lept with joy and anger._

 

_Constantin Valdor lay on the ground, asleep. Next to him, Jenetia Krole leaned against some rubble, Veracity across her lap._

 

_“Captain-General its me!  Its Aella! Where are you?!!  Wake Up! Wake up and tell me why  you left!”_

 

_+Because I ordered him to +  The Emperor of Mankind said._

 

_Aella turned.and faced her Emperor._

 

_“My king.”_

  


_He looked just as He did when He  walked among the Ten Thousand, the only exceptions was that his black mane was shot with streaks of grey and white.  His face was more heavily liked than it had been during the Heresy._

 

_Aella knelt instinctively._

 

_“My king.” Aella said softly. She felt her eyes water._

 

_“Do not kneel before me Aella.  My time is brief. The strain of operating the Astronomicon in my physical state and limiting the fragmentation of my mind is taking its toll much  earlier than predicted.”_

 

_“You must leave the Palace and find Constantin Valdor, Jenetia will need your help in keeping him alive until they  can find Isha.”_

 

_“Who’s Isha?” Aella asked._

 

_“ An Aeldari goddess of healing currently enjoying Nurgle’s company.   As much as I wished to minimize my contact with the Aeldari, her power may  be the only thing capable of saving my life.”_

 

_The Emperor’s left eye twitched, his right eye was still focused on Aella with an intensity that made her quiver._

 

_“ I know Constantin promised  to be there when you became a Custodian, I’m sorry he could not be there when you ascended into the ranks of the Ten Thousand.” The Emperor said._

 

_“If I’d known he and Lady Krole disappeared to find a way to bring you back it wouldn't have hurt as bad. “ Aella said sadly._

 

_“I ordered him not tell anyone of his quest. As I told Ra during the War in the Webway_ _Each one of the Ten Thousand represents genetic lore acquired over many lifetimes. Each one of you is unique, a work of art never to be repeated. I am miserly with your lives, where I would spend so many others without a thought._ _I would rather have  Valdor and Jenetia lose their lives than end up losing both the Custodes and Silent Sisterhood.  I have looked into the future Aella. When the Storm gathers my Talons will both be needed to defend Terra again.”_

  


_“Than what I saw...”_

 

_“Was a glimpse into  the past. And a glimpse into  the future of the Imperium of Man”._

 

_Aella pondered what her king has told her._

  


_“ Then do you know what has happened to Arlette?  She disappeared about twenty years after I became a Custodes.  The Companions have no memory of what happened. One moment she entered the Throne Room, the next she was gone .” Aella said._

 

_The Emperor frowned, his face wracked with spasms.  Now both eyes were twitching._

 

_“Strange.  That’s not like her at all, although I went through an entire century without her.  It was quite boring. I do not feel her presence on Terra nor do I feel it elsewhere. But I would feel it if  she was dead. “_

 

_“Thank you my king.” Aella said.  She breathed a sigh of relief. Her Empress, her mother and teacher did not lie among the dead._

 

_One less ghost to haunt her._

 

_“If you return  with Valdor, Jentia and Isha,  finding her will be one of my first priorities.   I have always found her, or she has always found me.  We always find each other.” He said with a sad smile._

 

_“Now go Aella Hypatia Enyo, my Tribune, my  Companion, my daughter, one of my Ten Thousand, go and carry out my will.  Tell no Adeptus Custodes of your quest. Find your Captain-General and do what must be done to save my life.  Do what I created you to do. Already I have consigned a thousand souls and a thousand ships to the ravenous hungers of Chaos to commune with you and I must return to my duty as a beacon for humanity. But never doubt that I am with you or that I love you.”_

 

_The Emperor  turned and walked away from Aella._

 

_Before he disappeared and Aella’s mind was flung back into her body, the Emperor said one more thing to her._

 

_“I am proud of you Aella. I know Constantin and Arlette are as well.”_

* * *

  


Aella opened her eyes.

 

“Tribune?” Centurion Abrax asked

 

“He spoke to me. “  Aella said softly. Through her helm lens she digested data she had missed.  Apparently only a minute had passed since she the Emperor has spoken to her.

 

“I have a duty I must carry out.  You are Tribune of the Companions now Abrax.”

 

She than left the Sanctum Imperialis before Abrax could respond.  Aella cut her vox off and removed her helm.

 

Her personal quarters  were not that far from the Sanctum Imperialis.   Her chambers were spartan, the only sign of individuality being a shelf of books, a four poster bed covered in fluffy animal pelts and thick purple sheets  and a silver and jade hairpin that Valdor had made for her that lay on her night stand.

 

She opened her armory, pulled out a Lastrum Storm Bolter and an Adrathic Destructor, than strapped both weapons to her thighs.  Aella grabbed a bandolier full of extra magazines for her Guardian Spear and as many box mags for the Storm Bolter and Power Cells for the irreplaceable energy weapon she could fit in her belt.  She opened her closet and draped a black fur shawl over her mourning cloak.

 

She moved to the door, pausing to stare at the hairpin.She grabbed that and tucked it in one if her ammo pouches.  She did not look back as she left her quarters.

 

Aella did know this at the time, but her personal collection of books would end up in the possession of a Shield-Captain named Valerian.  Her childhood journal would become a treasured relic of the Ten Thousand. Copies of it were made and became required reading for future generations of Ligo Aetos.

 

Aella moved unopposed through the hallways of the Imperial Palace.

 

Her destination was the Imperial Dungeon.

  
  


The portal to the Imperial Webway was guarded by a full squad of Wardens led by Prefect Atropos Lachesis Anake.  She would later go on to become Lockwarden of the Shadowkeepers for 5,000 years before being mortally wounded by the Daemon Primarch Lorgar.  She would be interred in a Contemptor Dreadnought and fall 3,000 years later on the final day of the 40th millennia against a band of Word Bearers attempting to summon Samus, the Daemon Prince of the Ruinstorm.

 

“Tribune.” She greeted.

 

‘Prefect”  Aella responded.

 

“Your presence here is unusual.”

 

“I need access to the Imperial Webway.  The Emperor spoke to me, I have a mission I must undertake.”

 

“Out of the question, Tribune, to open the Webway would put Terra at risk, it would make the  blood price the Ten Thousand and Silent Sisterhood and the sacrifice of Malcador the Hero worthless.  Tribune of the Companions or not. Unless our Emperor or Empress Arlette Amon Augusta Rakaposhi Gorro herself appears before us, you shall not pass.” Atrops replied.

 

Aella’s choler did not rise. The Shadowkeeper was just doing her duty.   It was admirable, and in Aella’s opinion rather attractive, but that wasn’t the point. She had her orders and they must be carried out.  

 

Suddenly, a sound louder than the warhorn of a Titan filled the area.

 

The Shadowkeepers watched as the door of  the Imperial Webway opened for a split second. They assumed combat positions.

 

“Do not Vox the Captain-General!!!  This is our King’s doing, not the Ruinous Powers!!!” Aella ordered.

 

She broke into  a sprint towards the portal that was already beginning to  close.

 

For a second there was blackness, than a deep orchid.  The ruins of the Impossible City and one of the largest Titans ever created casted shadows that surrounded her. Aella assumed a defensive stance, pausing to catch her breath and asses the terrain like Aunt Arturia and Uncle Amon had shown her.

 

Nothing.

 

Nothing, but the long decayed bodies of fallen Custodes and Sisters.  Nothing but the howling wind of a slowly crumbling dimension.

 

Nothing but silence.

 

_When in doubt move forward._   The old, often repeated axiom, was always good advice for any situation,  whether it be advancing through an alien dimension to find the man whose genetic material was used to  create you and save the most important person in the universe to trying to find a boyfriend or girlfriend.

 

So Aella did that.


	3. Chapter 3 Reunited (The face you make when your boss’ fourteenth son shows up and beats the crap out of you, your best friend and two of your boss’ sons.)

The formless wastes were formless.  Constantin Valdor should have expected this considering what the name of this section of the Warp was, but the plainness of the environment was boring.  Apart from the occasional redoubt full of daemons and the battles between Slaanesh and Khorne’s minions in the distance, there was nothing but planes of grey veined with black purplish liquid.

Valdor let a sigh and continued onwards.  Beside him Leman Russ sniffed the air, his Power Axe Helwinter at the ready.

“You seem frustrated Leman.”  Valdor said.

“Aye, our weapons have not tasted maleficarum flesh or drunken traitor blood for quite some time, it makes me impatient whatever trap the enemy has set.”

“Have no fear, we are breaking into the realm of a Chaos God, and there will be no shortage of foes for our blades.”

“I'm just glad there’s a way to bring him back.  If I was still on my lonesome I wouldn't have known the tree of life had been destroyed my Vaerangi would have been killed for nothing and I would have left Bjorn and my sons for nothing.”

If he was being honest, Leman’s frankness on his emotions surprised him considering his somewhat antagonistic relationship with the Captain-General.  The two had fought side by side many times, not just when Prospero burned, but during the Rangdan Xenocides and other battles when the Emperor and Arlette graced the sixth legion with their presence.  A good relationship on the battlefield did not always translate to a good relationship off it. 

 

“You are not the only one who’s left people they care about behind for the sake of duty.”  Valdor said as he scratched his beard. He would need to shave it soon, at the next available opportunity, even if Jenetia said it looked good on him.

 

“Yer talking about stepmother right?”  Leman said.

“Not just her, there was a Ligo Aetos named Aella, she assisted Arlette with her duties.  I promised I would be there when she became a member of the Legio. I do not liking breaking promises.”

“There is something more isn’t it?’  Rogal spoke up. The seventh son of his King held Leman’s Sword of Balenight in his remaining hand.

“I fear that when we return the Imperium it may be too late.  That the Emperor and everyone we know and loved the species we fought for will be gone or consumed by Chaos, or worse.  That the Imperium we return too will be not the one we swore to protect and were willing to shed blood for.”

Valdor admitted.  Saying those words hurt, but it was like ripping off a bandage.

Rogal sighed.

“You overthink things Captain-General.  If the Imperium is not the one we swore to protect we shall tear it down and rebuild it.  If it still stands and if my father is gone, it does not matter, for his internment on the Golden Throne meant he was no longer with us anyway.  The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men and women to do nothing. And we are not doing nothing.”

Constantin considered the primarchs.

“I forget how eloquent you can be sometimes.”

“Think nothing of it, let us continue, to victory or death.”  Rogal said.

+Blunt as ever+ Jenetia signed.  +But I share your concerns old friend.  +

The four continued for an hour in silence.

Valdor expected Leman to break the silence, but it was not he who was responsible.  It was the sound of wings

The figure was tall as a Contemptor Dreadnought, his armor was the color of sickness, a rotten green that made Valdor’s eyes water.  His face made an ogryn look handsome. His eyes were a putrid white with no irises. His lower jar obscured by a rebreather. What remained of his ugly, corrupted features was obscured by a purple cowl.  Two wings sprouted from his back in a sick mockery of an angel. They were tattered, brown things with holes so big, the laws of reality would have to be shattered for them to be capable of flight. 

 

“”It has been a long time.”  Mortarion, fourteenth son of the Emperor of Mankind, Primarch of the Death Guard, Daemon Prince of Nurgle greeted.

“By the throne brother, I can't believe I am saying this, but you got uglier.”  Leman said.

“Spare me your jokes brother.  You know why I am here.” Mortarion rasped.  The Daemon Primarchs voice set Valdor’s teeth on edge.  It was a raspy slimy tone that no mortal lips could ever produce.  

“Yer here because you’ve become a god’s bitch.”  Leman snarled all traces of his humor forgotten. 

“As blunt as he is, he is right.”  Rogal growled.

“And you are charming as ever brother.”

“You lost the right to call me brother long ago.  You are no longer family. You are a monster that must be put down like the cur you are.”  Rogal said. His voice was like the growl of a chainsword.

“Speaking of putting down curs, did you know Horus’ First Captain Abaddon killed your beloved Sigismund?  From what I hear, your beloved Champion died like an old dog. I must say the new Warmaster granted him mercy.  “Mortarion sneered.

Rogal remained unmoving.  His blues eyes were as cold as his homeworld.

“Tell me, Mortarion that the wounds Nathaniel Garro gave you still throb?  Do they keep you up at night, knowing that for all your boasting and your newfound power, he struck you down?  How did Nurgle feel when you lost not to your father or a primarch in single combat but an Astartes, one of your own sons no less?”  Valdor responded

_ “I am the Clarion's call!  I am the Tyrant’s fall!”  _ Those had been the last words of Malcador’s Knight-Errant before he stabbed his father in the heart and banished him.

Mortarion snarled.  “Tell me Captain-General, Nathaniel Garro sacrificed his life, but for all your devotion and skill, why does the Corpse Emperor not walk among his people?  I’m surprised Arlette did not blame you for His death. You two bickered a lot; did you come to blows in your grief? Why did she keep you around after you failed the one task you were created for?”

It that moment Valdor’s anger rose to a crescendo.  Mortarion and the other traitors had never seen the outcome of the Siege.  They had fled like the cowards they were. They had not seen the surviving Ligo Aetos in their huddled masses, many missing broodparents or friends, their innocence and happiness shattered by the destruction wrought on their only home and the death and horrors they had witnessed.   

They had not buried a Custodes who had taken their own life in the dead of night.   

They had not seen the Blood Angels wander aimlessly, stumbling over the corpses of their brothers and sisters, their eyes bloodshot, their hands shaking as they recovered gene-seed, arms and ammunition.

 They had not seen the Imperial Fists in their broken golden yellow armor rebuild the walls and what remained of the Palace, only to stare at the tools in their hands like they had forgotten how to use them.  

They had not seen the White Scars pace like caged animals, grinding their teeth and humming mourning songs from Chogoris.  

And they had not seen Arlette grieve.  They were not there when Valdor and Jenetia had to physically carry her away from His enthroned body to clean her, eat and sleep.

Valdor snarled like a wolf, raised the Apollonian Spear and shot Mortarion in the head.  The daemon’s head snapped back, only to tilt forward as flesh regenerated.

In Mortarion's right hand was the scythe known as  _ Silence,  _ in his left was the baroque shenlongi energy pistol known as  _ Lantern.    _

The primarch lunged with a blow that Valdor narrowly dodged,   an inch closer and Valdor’s well known Mohawk and the top of his head would have been sliced off.

Valdor jammed his Spear deep into Mortarion’s chest.  The primarch hissed in pain and Valdor found himself staring down the barrel of  _ Lantern. _  Before the Custodian’s head could be disintegrated, the silver blade of Veracity sliced the hand holding the pistol off.  

Mortarion howled in pain, not just from his wound, but from the agony of being in the presence of Jenetia Krole.  .

The daemon took to the air his pistol forgotten.  Leman drew his combi-bolter Scornsplitter and open fire.  Mortarion swooped down and brought Silence in descending arc.  Leman holstered his empty firearm and brought the Axe of Helwinter to bear in a two handed grip.  The two weapons met in a clash of fenrisian steel and corrupted metal. Sparks flew for a good minute, than Mortarion send Leman flying back in a shroud of green gas and buzzing flies.  Jenetia moved to the Wolf King’s side to dispel the sorcery while Valdor and Rogal lunged at Mortarion.

 

Mortarion swatted their blows aside and telekinetically pulled his pistol to his hand.  A purple bolt of energy collided with Rogal’s chest. The primarch roared in pain and buried his sword in the skull of his erstwhile brother.

Before the primarch could lash out with his scythe, Valdor removed Mortarion’s left hand with a stroke of his spear.  He then plunged it in the primarchs heart. Mortarion laughed. The daemon primarch was a blur as he slammed his fist into Valdor’s face.  The blow knocked Valdor back. With his freshly regenerated left hand .Mortartrion wrapped his hand around Rogal’s neck and shot in him the chest with Lantern.  He then flicked him aside telekinetically with contemptuous ease. Mortarion cracked his fingers and a warp portal opened.

Fourteen Deathshroud Terminators emerged, Power Scythes raised.  They uttered no battle cry, but marched in lockstep. Leman set upon them with his axe and teeth, while Jenetia circled her advancing foes like a lioness, Veracity ready to behead her opponents.

“Kill the pariah.”  Mortarion ordered. The Deathshroud lumbered forward.

As Mortarion continued his relentless assault, Valdor realized three things.

  1. Mortarion was healing from his injuries as fast as they were inflicted.
  2. Mortarion would never tire due to his connection to the Warp
  3. He was probably going to die before Jenetia and Leman could reach him



All in the span of a minute Valdor processed and accepted this information.  He and Mortarion continued their clash. Another minute passed. Than another.     

With a backhand sweep of Silence, the Apollonian Spear was knocked out of his hands.  Valdor calmly drew his Misericordia and leapt forward to bury the long dagger into Mortarion’s eye socket.  The primarch staggered back and Valdor lost his grip in the blade. Before Valdor could react, Mortarion’s struck back,   the scythe blade cut deep to Valdor’s torso, a few inches deeper and he would have been cut in half. He then raked his monstrous weapon across Valdor’s face, destroying his right eye and biting all the way to his skull.  Valdor toppled backwards. He suddenly felt very cold and very warm at the same time. His vision became distorted, grey slowly edging across what was once in color.

“I expected better from you.”  Mortarion said as he plucked the dagger out of his eye and tossed it to the ground.

“So did I, So did the Emperor.”  Valdor rasped.

“Don’t make me laugh Valdor.  The Emperor only wanted a weapon.  He never cared about my struggles. He killed a man who kept me shackled only to put his own pair of shackles on me.”

“The way I remember it, He saved you from death.  Did you know that He told me that your betrayal shocked him almost as much as Horus?”

“I can’t imagine why.”  Mortarion scoffed.

“Because you knew what it was like to be weak.  He thought you, out of all his sons would appreciate the strength you were born with, and use it responsibly.”

Mortarion paused.

Out of the corner of Constantin's eye he could make out Jenetia and Leman fighting.  Jenetia stabbed a Deathshroud in the knee, and then pushed Veracity into his throat. Leman Russ cut a Deathshroud in half from head to groin.  Rogal Dorn, his features a picture of rage and pain smote two of the scythe wielding terminators with a single blow.

Mortarion loomed over him.  In that moment, Valdor felt fear.  Fear that he would die with his duty undone.  He felt the sharp crushing feeling of failure.  It settled on him heavily, although it could be the poisons that Silence was coated in attacking his muscles and nervous system.

Mortarion raised Silence.

“Goodbye Constantin Valdor.”  Mortarion said softly. 

A barrage of heliothermic bolt rounds obliterated Mortarion’s torso.  The smell of burnt flesh filled the air. 

A  Custodes strode forward, a black fur shawl  and mourning cloak draped over their golden armor.  In one hand a Lastrum Storm Bolter sang a song of death, in the other, an Adrathic destructor added to the cacophony with a deem thrum!  sound. The energy beam from the archaic type of weapon the Emperor had taken great pains to ensure only his Custodes and the men and women he favored possessed  left a Deathshroud Terminator naught but ash and Mortarion’s rotten pus dripping body was incineratedhi, tainted warp matter in the shape of flesh seared like a fresh steak on the grill.  

While the Custodes advanced, Leman and his brother dealt with the remaining Deathshroud,

Jenetia followed, although with only a fraction of her usual speed, her silver armor was stained red from a wound she had taken to the chest.  

Mortarion laughed with a phlegmy rumble.  “Your Captain-General lies dying at my feet.  What make you stand a chance you pathetic husk of gene-tech?.  I will kill you and feed your bones to my Nurglings. Your skull will be used as a grenade to carry Nurgle’s Rot!”

The Custodes responded by tossing a Melta bomb in his face.  The Custodes than mag-locked the Adrathic Destructor to her thigh and began pummeling Mortarion's rapidly restoring features with bolter fire from her Guardian Spear.  The Soulless Queen vaulted over the Custodes Veracity poised to deliver a crushing, two-handed blow, 

The last thing Mortarion saw was the Zweihander blade splitting his skull, and the rheumy laughter of the god he sold his soul too.  

The witch hunter and adopted daughter of the Emperor landed like a cat.  She sheathed Veracity and stared at the Custodes. 

The Auramite armor Custodes wore did not bear, the conventional insignia used by Space Marines and Imperial Army.  Rank, Caste, Shield-Company and Shield Host was indicated by the color of the left shoulder pads, the type of gems embedded in the Custodes armor, the color of the armor, and the robes and tabards.

Jenetia hid her shock that someone else bore the hidden signs that indicated they were Tribune of the Companions.

+Is Arlette dead?+ Jenetia asked.

“She disappeared twenty years after I became a Custodian. “  The Custodes replied.

+How long have we been gone?  + Jenetia asked.

“Since you and him left?  A little over a century.” The Custodes said.

Jenetia paused to digest that information.

+I would have the name of the Custodes who took the role once held by the only non-pariah I considered a sister in arms.  +

The Custodes chuckled.

“As you command Knight-Commander Krole.”  They replied.

With a hiss of an unlatched seal the plumed, conical helm was removed.

Beneath the helm was a young women's face.  Her black hair was neck length to make it more comfortable when she wore her helm.  Her skin was the brown of the ethnic group referred to as Kazakh, although slightly lighter due to the Celtic gene-stock the Emperor mixed in when he created this particular Custodes.  She had a strong jawline and angular cheeks. 

Her eyes were the color of milk chocolate, but there was fierceness in them, a defiant, almost stubborn refusal to accept fate and to persevere.  To press onwards whatever the odds. To hear what people said, nod and tell them to frack off before they beat them to death with their bare hands if that’s what it took to succeed.

Jenetia like the look, in this Custodes it reminded her lot of Arlette and her own Sisters.

“I am Aella Enyo Hypatia, Tribune of the Companions.  Daughter of Shield-Captain Asclepius Phoebus Reticules of the Hykanatoi Prefect Gaius Alanaus Brennus of the Tharantoi and Primus Medicae Danak Tendai of the Fangs of the Emperor.  And I have been sent by the Emperor to aid you in your quest.”


	4. Chapter 4 Isha (A dream one step closer to becoming true (In which a goal is accomplished, and Valdor actually doesn’t act like an ass)

“You’re brooding again Stan.”  Arlette said. Constantin sat up.  He pushed aside silk and furs to stare at the woman sharing his bed.

He knew this was a dream, or a rather odd afterlife considering the wounds he had been dealt.  He looked around and realized this was his tent. His home before he had taken the name Constantin Valdor, and when he had been advisor and champion to Arlette.  Well the woman she was before she reclaimed her real name. 

When she was the   “The Lightning Queen” one of the most feared warlords during the Unification Wars.  Constantin was the only person besides Malcador the Hero, who knew the exact origins of his King and Queen and  it made his head throb just thinking about how convoluted and pulp-fiction like their past was.

“You are not Arlette.”  Valdor said. Whoever this person wearing his dear friend’s face was, they were not Arlette.  

“Of course I’m not.  I’m a product of your subconscious as your life leaves your body.”  She said with a smile

“I cannot die.  Not yet. Not until the Emperor walks among His people again.”  Valdor said with sudden urgency, moving to get out of his bed.

The Not-Arlette grabbed him and kissed him.  

The kiss was exactly as Valdor remembered, except this hollow copy of Arlette added tongue to the equation.

“Than wake the frack up you idiot.” she said after she broke the kiss.

* * *

 

“Arlette!”  Constantin shouted.  He tried to sit up, but his body raged at him.  He felt worse than that one time a Titan had stomped on him.

“Easy, my lord, Mortarion almost cut you in half.” an unfamiliar female voice said.

Valdor stared at a young Custodes was sitting a few feet away.  It took a second for his vision to focus on the Custodes kneeling in front of him.  She offered him a canteen

“I owe you my thanks.  What is your name?” Valdor rasped as he drank the water.  He touched the spot where his eye had been. The wound had been bandaged

The young Custodes smiled.

“I am Aella Hypatia Enyo, former Tribune of the Companions at your service Captain-General.”

Constantin's stared at her for a minute.

+Stan, I know it’s hard to believe, but this really is the Ligo Aetos that followed Arlette around.  + Jenetia signed

“Groxshit.” Stan said with a wince.

 “There is no one still breathing in the galaxy or Warp that is capable of killing Arlette Amon Augusta Rakaposhi Gorro.  And second, It is impossible that you are Aella. She was a child when Jenetia and I left.”

“It’s been a little over a century since you left Captain-General, plenty of time for a little eagle to spread her wings and fly.”

Valdor  stared at her.

“If you are who you claim to be,  than why did I tell her to expect her to  be better than Ra and I?”

“Because when I turned 17, I would be responsible for the safety of the most important human being to ever walk among our species.  That I would be responsible for someone who brings hope to trillions of human beings.” She said.

Aella than reached into her ammo pouch and brought a silver and jade hairpin.  It was a small thing, but Valdor was quite proud of it. 

You see, Valdor was a man of many talents, during his transition to becoming the first of the Ten Thousand, Valdor had been taught many things by the Emperor.

One of them was blacksmithing, for the Emperor’s father was a blacksmith, and He had passed that love of the forge and creating something   to Vulkan and Ferrus Manus.

Valdor was nowhere near as talented as the primarchs or his King, but he had forged his Misericordia and jewelry and other small things for his Custodes and the Sisters of Silence.  The hairpin was a gift to Aella when Arlette made her her Equerry.

Even Diocletian had laughed when Aella, the silver and jade hairpin worn smartly in her hair had wandered up to some older Ligo who were bragging about the Custodes they were shadowing let them plan patrol routes and even man the weapons of the Land Raider’s had told them she was the Empress’s Equerry and that meant she helped Arlette decide when the Emperor had to take a nap.

“It’s really you.”  Valdor said his eyes downcast.

“You don’t have to apologize for not being there when I took up my spear.  The Emperor said you had a very good excuse.” Aella said in the dry, teasing tone she picked up from spending too much time with Arlette.

“And do not move your body is just beginning to put itself back together.”  Aella said in a tone she picked up from her Broodfather Phoebus, Poor Phoebus had dealt with many injured Custodes who said they were fine, even when they needed to rest for a week minimum to heal.

Valdor reluctantly obeyed, as the first Custodes, the Emperor had done some tinkering and added “Bells and Whistles” that regular Custodes lacked.  Valdor’s natural endurance and capacity to tolerate pain had been enhanced to near primarch levels. 

“How long has it been since we left?”  Valdor asked with a grunt of pain as he assessed the state of his Power Armor.  He noticed liquid cement sticking out like a sore thumb where the wound that would have killed a “regular” Custodes was.  He noticed more of the substance applied to a crack on his right gauntlet and other areas. 

“I’m no Armory Thrall, but I did my best to patch up your war plate.”  Aella said with a smile that made his heart ache.

“I can’t believe you’re…”

“Sir with all due respect Get over it.  It’s been over a century since you left the Ten Thousand.  Arlette has vanished, and the longer it takes for us to find Isha, the longer our King lingers on that damned Throne and the Imperium he created withers.  “

“What happened to Arlette?”  Valdor questioned,

“She disappeared twenty years after I became a Custodes.  One second she was in the throne room, the next she was gone.  The Companions have no memory of what happened.”

“Of course they don’t, Arlette’s psychic abilities are on par with Malcador’s it would be child's’ play for her to alter the memories of the Hetaeron Guard.”  Valdor said.

“The Emperor said she wasn’t dead when He spoke to me.”  

“He spoke to you?”  Valdor asked.

“Not physically, but with his psychic abilities.”  Aella replied. 

+That must have taken quite a toll given his condition+ Jenetia signed.

“A thousand ships and a thousand souls, it was probably a lot more.”  Aella admitted.

Valdor pondered that for a moment, than wondered why he even cared, it did not matter how many lives or worlds would be lost in their quest, it did not matter if every single Custodian fell, all he cared about was that the Emperor walked among mankind again.

He stumbled a moment, his body feeling worse than that one time he had leapt onto a phosphex grenade in nothing but a loincloth.

+Will I need to carry you like I did at Aurora Gate?  + Jenetia asked.

“No.”  Valdor gritted.  He pressed onward, but shortened his strides a little bit.

An hour passed, Leman was humming an old Fenrisian song  

After what Aella estimated to be a day according to her helm chrono they ran into a plaguebearer.

Jenetia darted forward and lopped off the Plaguebearer’s arms before it could even react.  She plunged Veracity into its chest.

The daemon screeched in its foul tongue.

“High Gothic, I know your kind speak it.  Answer my question and Jenetia will make your death painless.  Try my patience and she will make you death seem like an eternity.  Now speak daemon.” Valdor growled.

The daemon stared into Jenetia’s eyes and screamed.  

This continued for a full minute until Jenetia wedged the Sword of Oblivion deeper into its chest.

“I’m going to ask you where Isha is being held in the garden of Nurgle.  You will answer.”

The daemon focused on Valdor and it answered in perfect High Gothic.   

“If you arrive at Grandfather’s villa and make it to the main hall, you will make a right seven times, On the seventh right you will find the cage he keeps the Eldar goddess and the most painful death you will ever receive.” the Plaguebearer said. Each word dripping with the sheer agony of being in the presence of a pariah.

“Thank you.”  Valdor said with complete sincerity.  He than gestured to Jenetia in thoughtmark to behead the daemon.

“It’s smaller than I expected.”  Aella stated as she passed Valdor three magazine for his Spear’s Bolter

Compared to the Imperial Palace, the villa where Nurgle resided was rather small.  It was a muddish green with brown splotches. Its tiled roof was greasy, greenish, and grey.  The ground surrounding the decayed, dilapidated structure where a god did his deeds was barren and never should have been able to yield fruit or plants.

Yet it did thick bulbous flowers and vines and trees whose fruits bore toxins more deadly than anything Valdor had encountered during the First World War.  Plaguebearers tilled soil that existed to support only a twisted mockery of life.

The philosopher in Valdor found it ironic that the one of the most vile creatures that plagued humanity carried out his spiteful acts in a simple villa, while his King, the most compassionate and honorable man, Valdor knew, the one man who had restored his faith in humanity lived in  a palace that almost took up an entire continent.

+This is a trap+ Jenetia signed.

Of course it is.  Even an astropath can see that this trap.”  Lemans said.

“Then let us spring it” Valdor rose and made his way down the villa grounds.

Jenetia made a rude gesture in thoughtmark and made her way down.

The daemons picked by Nurgle to tend to his garden did not expect for their daily routine to be interrupted, they never thought anyone would dare enter Grandfather’s realm.  

Plaguebearers dropped their agricultural implements and drew their blades, only to be cut down by precise hyper-velocity bolter fire.

As Valdor and his companions fought their way to the entrance of the villa, he wish this was a coordinated assault with the full strength of the Ten Thousand and that they could annihilate this circle of Hell, not a suicidal attempt to bring hope for Mankind.  But alas, the Warp was a fire that could not be put out; it could be only shackled and diluted to serve mankind 

Valdor watched Aella carve her way through the tide of daemons.  He noticed her fighting style incorporated thousands of different Custodes’ techniques He saw not just his own, but Ra, Amon and Arturia’s, he saw Mikelor and Arlette's.  He even saw the brutal techniques that had earned Sagittarius such infamy in the Terran Unification Wars before his internment.

As Valdor slew more of Nurgle’s foul children,   He felt Jenetia’s presence by his side as she racked up her own body count.  Her topknot of blood red dyed hair swayed as daemons fled from the Soulless Queen.

The five of them pushed forward through a sea of motley brown-green flesh.

Aella and Valdor fired the Bolters strapped to their spears in short bursts of three to four rounds.  They never missed; they couldn’t with the tide of daemons surging forward to protect the front of their lord’s villa.

Aella’s Guardian Spear spun in tandem with Valdor’s, a whirlwind of death that severed limbs and heads.  The two fell into a natural synchronization, both of them becoming partners in a dance only a Custodes could perform,  Daemons shrank back, only to meet a more painful death at the blade of Jenetia Krole

Soon they were wading through corpses, the entrance only a few meters away.  A Great Unclean One loomed in the doorway, 

Aella stowed her Guardian Spear and drew her Lastrum Storm Bolter and Adrathic Destructor and emptied the two weapons into the Greater daemon’s head.  Jenetia and Leman fought their way to the beast and with two strokes removed its head and split it in half.

Nurlging’s emerged from the daemon’s groin and guts, only to be torn apart by foot and controlled bolter fire.

The five moved in to the villa, Jenetia at head, with Dorn bringing up the rear.

As they made their first right, Valdor felt his heartbeat pickup, they were getting closer.  Close to mankind’s salvation, or its death.

The room they entered was vast, with a massive cauldron taking up the center.  Next to it was a table carpeted in vials, flasks and everything one need to brew blights and misery.  

Occupying a corner of the room was a cage.  A great bird cage made of blackened metal inscribed with runes in a tongue older the mankind   inside a goddess lay. A beautiful woman with skin to color of snow and hair the color of gold. 

And standing before them was Nurgle himself.  His many chins jostled and his belly rumbled.

“Greetings!  It has been so long since I have had guests.”  Nurgle said with a smile of rot-black teeth. 

It was in that moment, that Constantin Valdor hesitated.  Fear coursed through his veins like a rushing river, seizing control of his limbs and drying his throat.  This was foolhardy, not even the Emperor and Arlette at the height of their powers had taken on a Chaos God head on, what chance, did he, even with his enhancements being the finest of example of the Emperor’s Gene-craft.  Stand against a god?

Then he felt Jenetia's presence at his side.

No words were spoken, their friendship was built on silent, unconditional love and mutual respect and it would end that way if it must.

He forced his gaze from Nurgle and the sheer malevolence he exuded to stare at Jenetia, than at the cage that contained his King’s salvation.

“Go.” he told her.

Jenetia shot off like a bolt of lightning, while Valdor, consigning himself to death threw himself at Nurgle, Aella and Leman hot on his heels.  Rogal followed Jenetia, his borrowed blade at the ready.

Nurgle dodged Valdor’s spear with amusement.  He was still smiling

Six times Nurgle dodged Valdor’s blows, on the seventh; Nurgle yanked the Apollonian Spear from Valdor’s grasp and tossed it aside.  Nurgle than slammed his fist into Valdor’s chest, Auramite shattering like glass and breaking three of his ribs. Valdor sank to one knee.  His lips tried to form a sound of agony, but nothing came. Nurgle raised his fist, only to be blasted back by Aella’s Lastrum Storm Bolter and Adrathic destructor.  Nurgle’s limbs were blown by heliothermic bolt rounds and his flesh cooked alive, yet Nurgle laughed, vanishing in a cloud of buzzing flies. 

Aella drew her Guardian Spear; firing full-auto into the swarm flew towards her.  It disappeared feet away from her. Nurgle revealed himself behind the Custodes, his stubby fingers reached out to grab her by her cloak.  Aella spun and plunged her Guardian Spear into the Chaos God’s chest. He laughed and head-butted her, cracking her helm and breaking her nose.  Nurgle telekinetically flung her into a wall with a flick of his wrist. He pulled the Guardian Spear from his cheat and snapped the Master-crafted weapon in half like it was a twig.

With a bloodthirsty snarl, Leman‘s axe bit into the back of Nurgle’s head, yet all this did was produce a chuckle.  Nurgle flipped Leman over his shoulder with one hand and then telekinetically lifted him up by his throat. He slammed Russ to the ground with a snap of breaking bones and ceramite.  The Plague God bounced the Wolf King like a ball and with his finger sent him crashing in a heap of broken power armor and mangled flesh next to Aella.

It was this exact moment Constantin Valdor knew they were being toyed with.  Nurgle could have had them buried in the sheer number of daemons he could throw at them, but Nurgle had let them come into his inner sanctum because he was bored.  Because he needed a break from brewing suffering for every living thing in this universe.

Valdor retrieved his spear, sparing a glance to see Jenetia furiously hacking at the lock of the cage containing Isha.

“Mother Father, Malcador Sagittarius, my fellow Ten Thousand, it appears I will be joining you soon.”  Valdor said.

He would not run from death, all his life he had faced it head on, knowing that one day he would give his life for the Emperor and mankind.

Valdor opened fire, hyper-velocity bolter rounds punching through Nurgle’s back.  The god turned to face him, just as Valdor’s spear plunged into his heart. Valdor withdrew his spear, and struck at the plague god’s head only for Nurgle to block the blow with his arm.  The spear once wielded by the Emperor left no mark on the plague god. Valdor leapt back and drew his Misericordia, He fainted, a sweep to the gut and then raised the dagger high, ready to plunge into Nurgle’s head.  He caught the blow and then with only a moderate increase in pressure, shattered Valdor’s arm.

Valdor dropped his dagger and howled in pain, his legs turning to mush from the sheer agony.  Never before had he experienced such a sensation. Never before had he been so overwhelmed by a single foe.  

But this was the only the beginning of Valdor’s suffering.  Nurgle raised his right hand and quicker than the Khan on his bike, plucked out Valdor’s remaining eye.  

Valdor found himself lifted up by his throat, he could smell the stench of the plague god, and it was the smell of rotting fat and tainted water.  It was a smell of death itself He tried to struggle to do something, but what strength he had remaining was fleeing like Night Lords from a fair fight.  

“Any Last words before I grind you up with my mortar and pestle and use your body as ingredients for my next malady?”  Nurgle said.

“I know why you fear Him.  Why you fear humanity. You fear Him because he offers an alternative.  He offers hope. You fear humanity because you need us. You need us like starving man need sustenance.  You can’t exist without us, but mankind can exist without you.”

“No wonder He likes you so much.”  Nurgle spoke with a wet sneer. Nurgle tightened his grip around Valdor’s throat, only to suddenly scream as the beam of an Adrathic Destructor severed his arm at the elbow.  A second beam incinerated Nurgle’s head, pus and singed gristle spilling from the hole in his skull. 

Nurgle turned and telekinetically yanked the priceless archeotech weapon out of the Custodes’ hand and crushed it.  He then stomped on Constantin’s chest, breaking his remaining ribs and leaving a huge hole in his abdomen.

“Do you wish to have your wings clipped little eagle?”  Nurgle said through freshly regenerated lips. Aella made an obscene gesture she had picked up through her Blackshield father, than brandished her broken Guardian Spear.  Nurgle laughed, only to be cut off as a frost axe beheaded him. The headless body vanished a flash of green light, then reappeared in front of Leman Russ and punched him in the chest, so hard his primary heart flew out of his torso.

“Not again!”  Leman cursed before a second punch shattered his bearded jaw.

Aella stabbed the spearhead of her broken weapon into Nurgle's back, than lobbed a plasma grenade in his face when he turned to face her.  Nurgle emerged from the detonation unscathed, his black fingernails now incisor like talons that parted Aurumite like it was paper and dug deep into her flesh.  Aella didn’t even have time to scream. The poison lacing them was already doing its work filling her vision with hallucinations and slowly stealing the breath from her lungs.

While this was all going on, Jenetia Krole and Rogal were simultaneously striking at the cage containing the Eldar goddess

Even with the strength her vratine armor lent her, Jenetia was only mortal, the lock of the cage would be broken by her soullessness not her impressive physical strength.

“Why are you helping me?”  Isha asked.

+My father is dying.  I need you to heal him+ Jenetia said.

“Nurgle will kill you all.  You cannot free me pariah. You do not think I have tried to free myself from this living nightmare?”

+I do not care.  All I ask is that you heal Him+

“And just who is your father you abomination?”  Isha asked.

+The Emperor of Mankind.+

“Even more of a reason not to.  Why would I heal that freak of nature?  That arrogant young god who thinks he's a mortal?  That defiler of the gifts the Old Ones gave to the Aeldari?  Do you know how many of my children he slaughtered? And his wife,  By Asuryan, that woman-”

+All I ask is that you heal him in exchange for us freeing you.  That's all. He gave me a family when I had nothing. He loved me even when being close to me caused Him agony.  He gave me a purpose; He became my Father when I needed one. And I want scared, hated little girls like I once was to have the same chance I did.  +

“I see.  If you a somehow free me I'll heal him.  But in return I want a cease fire between my children and your accursed Imperium.  “

Rogal Dorn looked like he was going to throw up in his mouth.

+Fine.+

She kept hacking, channeling her utter silence in the Warp through Veracity.

She ignored Valdor's cry of pain, desperately trying not to turn to see him.  It took every ounce of willpower not to rush to his side and save his life like she had done so many times.

The lock was breaking.  Every blow cracked it. They were close.  So close.

Than Nurgle ripped out Rogal Dorn's left lung.

To his credit Rogal did not scream.  He reversed his grip on the Sword of Balenight and rammed through his own chest so Leman Russ’s beloved blade could taste the blood of a Chaos God.  Nurgle snarled, drove his fist through his back and removed Rogal’s liver.

There was a crack as the lock the cage broke, a trickle of power slithered through

That trickles became a current, the current became, a river, the river became on ocean.

The cage cracked and groaned, a shrill moan of cracking hell forged metal filled Jenetia’s ears.   

“NO!  NO! NO!”  Nurgle howled his chins jiggling, has belly swinging like a pendulum as he strode to the cage.  The raw energy of the Warp boiled in his hand, but he was shoved back by a cyclone of wind before he could do anything with it.

The air crackled, as Isha strolled leisurely past Jenetia and the collapsed Rogal.  Every step she took left grass growing in her wake, In her right was a simple staff of wood.  In her left was a hunting dagger, a gift from her husband Kurnous forged by Vaul. Runes of fate and battle shimmered around her.

Nurgle snarled, as his rusted plate armor, shifted over his corpulent form, He conjured a mace in one hand, a war scythe in the other.

“Do you want to do this my love?”  Nurgle said.

“My love is dead.  And another will not have my heart you pathetic excuse of a god.”  Isha said.

“Over the millennia I entertained the idea of giving you to Slaanesh, but now I must give it serious consideration.  Nurgle said

Isha reply was not in words, but in the dagger to the belly.  Not even the Emperor was as fast as her. She bashed him on the head with her staff, than knocked the scythe from his hands.  She stabbed Nurgle again, and again. Each wound she inflicted summoned screams of pain from Nurgle. Each wound Isha inflicted did not heal or produce a laugh of amusement.   

With a flick of her wrist, Isha removed the hand Nurgle held his mace in.  With a gesture the grass that had formed beneath the goddess turned into thick, thorn vines that engulfed Nurgle.  She then plunged her dagger deep into his many chins 

In a pool of green smoke and a scream that would echo throughout the Warp, Nurgle vanished

+He’s not dead is he?+  Jenetia asked.

Isha sighed.  “No he is not, but he is closed to as banished as possible, but he will recover his strength soon.  We must be gone from this wretched place. Grab your friend abomination before Nurgle’s minions show up.”

_ I guess I’m carrying you after all Constantin.   _ Jenetia thought

  
  
  



	5. Chapter 5 ( In the Grim darkness of the far future, there is only disappointment and hope)

Valdor was falling.   He was tumbling into an an abyss,  his limbs flailing, his mouth trying to  scream, but producing no sound.

He slammed into the floor of a the Imperial Palace   Valdor groaned and pulled himself to his feet. Then he looked around and almost screamed.

The palace was unrecognizable.  Gold was slathered over the walls, Statues that had once been painted were dull and lifeless, the paint long since faded.   The magnificent tapestries and friezes that had been removed in the process of fortifying the palace had not been restored to their  rightful places.

Thick layers of dust and soot had settled over everything.  Valdor had to refrain from screaming again when released the soot was actually cremated human  remains

Than he realized something.

The palace was silent.    Something it never should have been.  The palace had always been filled with the giggles of Ligo scampering through the halls, the clack-clack of Malcador’s Staff,  The chortle his Custodes made as the exchanged jokes with Sisters of Silence in thought-mark as they went about their duties. The ka-boom! of one his King’s experiments  going awry.

But there was no sound, not even the background of the hustle and bustle of Terra was heard.

Valdor started running in the direction of the Sanctum Imperialis.  He had landed near the Tower of Hegemon. In about 15 minutes at his maximum speed he would reach the Eternity Gate

 

* * *

 

When he reached Eternity Gate, he couldn't hold back his scream back anymore.

An army of the dead stood between him and Eternity Gate.  There were Astartes and Custodes in blackened armor, wreathed in fire, with no visible, flesh except for bones.   

There were mortal soldiers, too. Voidsmen of the defunct  Solar Auxilia, warrior maidens in a pattern of power armor he did did not recognize , Lucifer Blacks and the gung-ho Catachans.  Valdor saw flamewreathed soldiers in gas masks and trenchcoats clutching Lucius Pattern Lasguns and shotguns. He saw soldiers in green and olive fatigues led by a skeleton clutching a banner that had the name Cadia inscribed on  it's tattered form.

There were Thunder Warriors too.  The glorious, honored dead of the Terran Unification Wars stood alongside those who had been betrayed at Isstvan III and V and who died at the Siege of Terra and the decades after

Valdor felt a chill deep in his bones.  There had to be at least 300,000 Space Marines alone standing before him, not to mention  the Custodes and Thunder Warriors and the host of mortal soldiers.

For a second Valdor stood before an army of Martyrs.

Then they saluted, and parted before him

Valdor hesitated, then he gritted his teeth and took a step forward

Eternity Gate opened  with a deep rumble.

Valdor  was greeted by a withered figure  sitting in a cell. It took Valdor a moment to  recognize him as His King

The Emperor rose from the floor.  Valdor could see His ribs through the chiton He wore.   His hair was white and greasy, dark circles were under his eyes.  His hands were gnarled arthritic things. No aura of raw power cloaked him, this was His King as he truly looked, the strain keeping his body and mind intact after the wounds Horus dealt and the agony of his confinement to  Golden Throne plain to see .

The Emperor wiped blood from his nose, than he spat black bile and coughed up phlegm,   His body made the rattle of death, for it was little more than a corpse, its only purpose to  contain His essence and provide a form for His subjects and the woman he loved more than life itself to  see.

“The wheels of fate are spinning  old friend, I have done all I can to  stack the deck in your favor.”

The Emperor  reached through the bars and lay a spasm wracked hand on Stan's chestplate.

“I look forward to seeing you with my own eyes old friend.”

* * *

 

Constantin awoke with a gasp.  He was not expecting to be able to actually see with his physical eyes.  Isha must have healed him while he’d experienced this…. Experience. Valdor would not call it a dream.  Dreams hurt and left a dry, bitter taste on one’s mouth, like a mix of taking a bolter round to the chest and trying to keep down bitter dregs of a poor vintage of wine.

“Your mind is loud for a mon-keigh.”  Isha said.

“Really?” Valdor asked.  The goddess nodded. “You have my thanks for healing me.  Are we close to finding an exit to realspace?” The custodes asked.  He rose with more effort than he’d care to admit. His wounds had been healed, but his strength was flagging.  He wanted nothing more than to rest, but duty forced him to remain standing and press onward.

“There is a webway portal ahead   Twenty five of what you call miles ahead.” Isha answered.

The Aeldari goddess smelled of pine and roses, freshly baked bread and fertile soil.   The goddess presence, coupled with the whispers of the imperfection of the daemons and those he slew with the Apollonian Spear hammered at him.  

He looked at Aella for a second.  

“You look like shit Captain-General.”  The young custodes said with a grin.

Leman let out a bark of laughter.

“I feel like shit.” Valdor said.

* * *

 

“So Lord Commander Guilliman has petitioned for the aid of the knights of Sigismund?” High Marshal Helbrecht asked.

“My Primarch... has requested that the Black Templars muster as many warriors as you can spare to aid him for his crusade.  He would be honored if the Eternal Crusader could take part.” Lieutenant Chiron Patroclus of the Ultramarines 10th Company replied.

Sitting in a throne of hand carved marble mined from a quarry on holy Terra  during that heady period between the end of the Terran Unification Wars and the first true battles of the Great Crusade Helbrecht was every inch a Black Templar.

His Power Armor was a mix of Mark III and IV  plate painted in a dull bronze that did little to hide the scars and dents it had accumulated during its service not just to Helbrecht but to those who had worn it before him. A line of knights had worn this suit, a line stretching back all the way to the Templar Brethren of the First Company of the original Imperial Fists Legion.  The suit had bore the scars of the battle fought at Beta-Gamon and the Siege of Terra itself.

Over this power armor was a black tabard and cloak lined in arterial scarlet. Further adorning the armor were oaths of moment, purity seals, crusader tokens and scrolls detailing Helbrecht's glorious deeds.

In the Master of the Black Templar’s hands was the Sword of the High Marshal’s.  Even sheathed and deactivated the Power Sword radiated an aura of majesty, for the blade had been forged using  fragments of Rogal Dorn's own Chainsword Storm's Teeth. The holy sword had been quenched in traitor and xenos blood in the hands of the founder and First High Marshal of the Black Templar and  the First Emperor’s Champion, Sigismund

In contrast, Lieutenant Chiron wore Mark X Power Armor, which bore few battle scars. Helbrecht saw no battle honors on his armor aside from the Vigilus Campaign.

_Not only does the Primarch send a lacky, he doesn't even send me one who's at least earned to right to march onto the field of battle in  holy Terminator Armor._

Helbrecht’s pride was not stung, but the High Marshal was by the  necessity of his sacred office and duties a political thinker.

Why had Lord Commander Gulliman sent a Lieutenant with barely two centuries of battle experience?  If the matter was so damn important why not order the High Marshal with his divine and political authority or petition him in person? Why not send Marneus Calgar or Reclusiarch Cassius? Or a member of his Victrix Guard or a Company Captain?  Or was this crusade so important that this young officer all the thirteenth son of the God Emperor could spare in his preparations?

_At least he has not sent one of his  Librarians._

“Tell me Lieutenant, given the importance of this endeavor why had Lord Commander Gulliman not come in person? I mean no offense but why send  a young brother such as yourself? “

“No one else could be spared my Lord.  My Primarch is personally overseeing the gathering of forces for his new crusade.  Lord Calgar has been recalled from Vigilus to resume his role as Lord Defender of Macragge.  Reclusiarch Cassius fights along the 3rd Company and half the 6th against the Tyranids of Hive Fleet Kronos. The remainder of the chapter save for 25 veterans of the first and half of my own company, muster at Calth.

Translation: Guilliman was micromanaging again, but wanted his officers close, and anyone else that could have been sent  was unavailable due to other duties.

“What are Gulliman's goals for this new crusade of his?” Helbrecht asked.

“Further securing the borders between the western and eastern half of the Imperium as well as the destruction of key traitor assets including  the Despoiler himself.

Helbrecht took a second to reply.

“I will confer with my knights, tell your primarch I can guarantee at least two hundred warriors for his crusade. I cannot promise that the Eternal Crusader herself will join,. I have received petitions from other commanders, and all must be considered.”

The Lieutenant nodded and than left the hall.

* * *

  


“My liege,  you should send only a handful of knights, there are other war zones, we would be more suited to.” Marshal Brienne of the Tarth Crusade said.

“I concur, High Marshal, the filthy Tyranids  and Tau have been ravaging the southern half of the Imperium, send enough brothers and sisters to satisfy the Lord Commander and be done with it.  He did not even petition you in person.” Marshal Tormund, a Primaris Marine clad in battered Gravis Armor said gruffly

“We have received reports of Huron Blackheart conducting  raids in the galactic West. We should muster as many warriors and ships as we can.  Surely she would be put to better use ending the Tyrant of Badab. while Lord Commander Guilliman has his own Gloriana.”   Marshal Michel spoke.

Helbrecht  suppressed a sigh.   The Black Templars had been bloodied this past century.    

Many of their Chapter Keeps had been destroyed. Many brothers and sisters had given their lives for the God-Emperor.   With the Imperium split in half that meant a great many Knights were missing, presumed fallen. Helbrecht doubted there were a little less than two thousand Black Templars still crusading, and with every petition for aid and every campaign that dragged on longer than projected spread them thinner and sapped their strength.   

The crusade to protect key Shrine worlds had been a costly campaign, even with the new Primaris Marines to bolster their ranks. The Indomitus Crusade had whittled them down even more. Aiding Lord Commissar Yarrick in slaying Ghazkull Urk Thraka had left more than a thousand of them dead.

While the chapter had continued the Eternal Crusade far below Codex Apporved levels, and even when yhe chapter had been at the brink of extinction, something had to  give. The Black Templars could not be everywhere at once.

“This is a perfect opportunity to avenge Marshal Almarich and the honored fallen  who died fighting the Despoiler!” Venerable Tankred boomed. The Dreadnought was one of fourteen ancients and the sole Mark V lingering in the corner of Sigismund’s Hall. The others were  mix of Contemptor, Mark IV and Leviathan all of them more than five thousand years old or more.

Helbrecht listened to the arguing of his Marshals and Castellans

“Enough!  Tonight, I will pray to the primarch and the God Emperor for guidance before the bones of the first High Marshal!  Tomorrow I will decide if I will take the Eternal Crusader to join Lord Guilliman.”

* * *

  


That night Helbrecht knelt before the amber encased bones of the first Black Templar and prayed for guidance.

 He shut his eyes,  for a second he was kneeling, the next he on the bridge of the Eternal Crusader, the Vengeful Spirit filling up the viewports

“Fire now High Marshal!” A voice ordered over the vox.

Helbrecht opened his eyes, his chapped lips uttering a gasp.  He was back in the tomb of Sigismund.

When he returned to his quarters he voxed Reclusiarch Grimaldus that he had made his decision. The Eternal Crusader would go to Gulliman’s crusade. The only question now would be which Marshals would accompany him and which ones would not.

 

* * *

 

“Finally an exit back into real space.” Leman said.    “Do we know where it leads?” Rogal asked Isha inspected the portal.

 

“ It leads to a planet called Drecksloch.”  Isha said.  She pointed to the inscription and  smiled, as if she knew a joke that others would not get.  

The portal opened  with a deep bass rumble

The five of them entered the shimmering portal,  Constantin felt  a sense of vertigo for a a few minutes  no more than three by his estimate. Than he emerged in the middle of a fucking war zone.  In the distance he could make out Imperial Fists and Space Wolves engaging warriors of the Black Legion.   

The sky was  filled with smoke  and dueling aircraft.   Screams of the wounded and dying filled the air.  Cries for mercy, for fathers and mothers were drowned out by artilary fire

 

“Brother?  Is that you?”  a familiar, if somewhat unliked voice said

Standing before them, clad in  deep blue and gold Power Armor, a Laurel wreath on his head and The Emperor of Mankind’s sword in his hand was Roboute Guilliman.

 

 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


   


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